Taking the Plunge, An Ode to Wet Killian and the Olympics
by amagicalship
Summary: Killian Jones is going for gold at the Olympics, Emma Swan fetches the divers' towels. She doesn't think she'll have any problem resisting the charms of all those half-naked, wet divers. That is, until she sees him.
1. Chapter 1

_This'll be fun_ , Ruby said. _You'll get to come with me to Rio!_ Ruby said.

The frown lines on Emma's face grew deeper as she took in the now-green color of the diving pool. More like _deflect the unwanted attention of male divers all day_ and _be unable to smell anything except the lingering scent of chlorine_ , which was probably burning up all of her nose hairs by now.

She was contemplating all the ways she was going to return Ruby's "favor" when the crowd cheered uproariously, jolting her back to the present as she realized yet another dive had been completed and she would soon be expected to hand the diver a towel, the job which Ruby had been so "generous" to bestow upon her in exchange for a trip to the games.

Ruby insisted that Emma would _love_ getting an eyeful of all the divers' bodies, but if "unimpressed" could be a state of mind, it was pretty much her entire country. After a day of being largely ignored or shamelessly hit on, Emma was ready to throw-in the towel. Literally.

That is, until she noticed one very wet, very naked form plunging up through the surface of the pool like a man being reborn.

He flung the water from his ebony hair with a flick of his neck and opened his eyes, revealing blue irises more radiant than the sky, and Emma felt time stand still as she absorbed the entire picture he made, dark chiseled features contrasting sharply with the soft color of his eyes and the fleshy pink of his lips.

She was so entranced her mouth hung open as she watched him climb effortlessly out of the pool, his movements cat-like and nimble as he sauntered towards her, the vague memory of watching a leopard roam through the jungle passing through her mind as his sleek dark hair glistened in the glare of the overhead lights.

Most divers were completely bare-chested, but this one had a dusting of dark chest hair resting atop his smooth, defined pecs, his arm combing back through his hair suggesting equally well defined arms.

Emma couldn't help but let her eyes trace a path down his torso, following the rivulets of water that were now running in between his washboard abs and all the way down to his teeny, tiny black speedo. Although, there was nothing teeny tiny about _him_ , and she found herself wondering if this guy had to buy a special suit in order to fit that large of a package inside the standard-issue uniform. _Holy shit._

His eyes lit up with awareness as he took in her (likely) stunned expression, and he fixed a smug smirk firmly in place as he quirked an eyebrow at her suggestively. The way he was scanning over her figure, dressed only in a fitted white tank and short red track shorts, led her to believe the attraction was mutual, and her scalp tingled all over unbidden.

Realizing that she had been staring, Emma shifted in place, crossing her arms over her chest like a shield as he made his way towards her with singular focus.

Something that sounded like a cross between "Oh," "No," and "Whoa," escaped her lips in a rush and Emma bit her lip, feeling completely foolish and starstruck as she noticed the perfect curve of his dark eyebrows and the water clinging to his eyelashes.

He stopped right in front of her and her eyes went straight to his collarbones and the small drops of water resting there. She wanted to wipe them away with her fingertips. She also wanted to sock him in the jaw for the lewd comment that she knew instinctively was about to come out of his mouth.

Tilting his head at her, he said, "Are you going to make me beg?" in a deep voice, richly accented and full of innuendo as Emma realized he must be British.

Her irritation flared. _Here we go again_ , she thought as she picked up a towel and before she could stop herself, flung it at his chest unceremoniously.

Two arms came up to catch it, and she was shocked to find that he only had one hand, the other cut off at the wrist, and shame flooded through her instantly as his expression shifted from flirtatious to something a bit more wary.

She suddenly remembered seeing a news article about a British diver with one hand, a Killian something-or-other, though she hadn't bothered to read it, not having any particular affinity for diving as a sport or the foreign competition. Now here he was in the flesh, all impressive six feet of it.

"Thanks, love." He winked at her, the mirth returning.

Wiping the towel over his face with his good hand, he began to dry himself with the small piece of fabric which was more like a man-chamois than an actual towel. Emma couldn't stop staring at his arm just hanging there, exquisitely formed except for the aberration at the tip.

"How'd you lose it?" she asked spontaneously, her brow furrowing.

He released a soft sigh before answering cheekily with a dimpled grin, "Got in a fight with a crocodile and the croc won." Again with the winking.

 _Total lie_ , her senses told her, but then, who was she to be demanding answers from a complete stranger?

Just then another cheer rang out, and they both glanced at the scoreboard.

 _Killian Jones_ , the board read, revealing a near-perfect score alongside his name.

His face spread into a satisfied grin as he ran the towel over his hair, mussing it up, before letting the towel rest around his neck. Emma's cheeks flamed as she realized the camera was probably trained on both of them as the media took in his reaction to his score.

With a nod, he returned his attention to her momentarily, glancing quickly towards her chest and she fought between feeling somehow flattered and at the same time completely unnerved.

"See you around, Swan." Gazing at her for longer than was necessary, his eyes seemed to penetrate deep into her soul, and she found herself blinking rapidly as he walked away, her breath catching in her throat as she wondered how he could possibly know her name.

 _Nametag_ , she realized lamely, looking down at the badge hanging just below her breasts. _Idiot._

Watching as he climbed into the hot tub and leaned back against the side, steam rising all around him, Emma started to wonder if Ruby hadn't been quite so wrong after all.


	2. Chapter 2

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur, Emma in a heightened state of arousal as she searched the pool for any sign of the illustrious Killian Jones - any tall lean figure with dark hair causing her to crane her neck in that direction.

As soon as she went on break, she took out her phone and pulled up the news article she had seen about him, intent on finding out the truth about his missing hand. It was a dramatic tale, and one that made her heart clench more than once as she poured over every detail.

Killian had lost his parents in a car crash at a young age, but luckily his brother Liam was old enough to assume the responsibility of raising him, eventually becoming his diving coach. The two made a formidable team and Killian competed in his first Olympics at the age of 24, bringing home a gold in the diving board competition. Unfortunately, tragedy struck again and he lost both his brother and his girlfriend in a sailing accident, a rope cutting off the circulation in his hand and savagely rendering it unusable and in need of amputation. Alcohol abuse and a deep depression followed, and no one thought he would ever return to diving, but he proved them all wrong in 2011 when he rose from the ashes and began training again, even managing to make the 2012 Olympic team and winning a bronze medal. Now he was back for his final Olympics at the rather mature age of 32, a veritable hero in England and in the diving community at large for his resilience and grit.

Emma slumped back in her chair, biting her lip as she put her phone down and sighed. He sounded...well, he sounded kind of dreamy if she was honest with herself. Just as dreamy as he looked, even though he seemed to be well aware of it. God, he must have every woman in England after him with a story like that and the face to go with it!

Her mind wandered back to the image of him walking towards her, the way tendrils of his inky black hair fell over his eyes as they burned through her.

 _His eyes..._ so brilliant and blue and full of shadowy intrigue. Perhaps he was a god of the sea, and that's why he survived the boating accident.

Emma shook her head to clear it. What the hell was wrong with her? She wasn't usually the type to daydream about a mysterious stranger, let alone idolize one. Ruby would tell her that was _exactly_ why she was here - to get excited about a hunky Olympian and hopefully take one to bed with her - but the whole plot sounded a bit, well...she didn't know. Unadvisable, maybe.

Whatever the connection was that she thought she felt spark to life between them, she couldn't deny the growing sense of admiration that forced her to pick up her phone again and check the diving scores. It wasn't typically like her to fangirl over a sports hero, but hey - she _was_ at the Olympics.

Killian had fallen behind a bit today in the scores, and the commentary was suggesting that he may not earn the medal so many had hoped for him. Emma frowned, then bit her lip. Perhaps she could help him - he could be like her project or something - and it might give him the little extra motivation he needed to win that medal. She was certain she could help him 'rise to the occasion' and she'd be doing England a favor. Yeah, that was it. It had nothing to do with her inexplicable and intense attraction to him and her curiosity about what his skin would taste like when she licked the water off of it. Nope, not at all.

When she returned to her duties at the pool, it was with a sense of nervous anticipation. As body after body came out of the water, her breath started to come more quickly as she waited for Killian to be the next almost-naked form to approach her. With scenery like that, could anyone blame her if her mind wandered into fantasy territory? Images of Killian - his stormy eyes full of clear intent, climbing out of that pool and coming straight for her as he raked his fingers back through his hair, then pressing his wet, naked flesh up against her and get her soaked as he kissed her passionately, guiding her back towards the wall - kept her feeling off balance, sending little flurries of energy straight between her thighs.

Which is why when the _real_ Killian Jones climbed out of the pool, slinking towards her like the slick, dripping wet god of water that he was - a smug grin on his face that she somehow _knew_ was just for her - Emma almost didn't realize it was actually happening.

She dropped the towel on the floor. _Holy hell he's hot._

Regaining her composure, she smirked as he made his way straight towards her, his eyes full of quiet mirth and curiosity.

Emma held the towel out for him, but when he went to retrieve it, she jerked it away at the last second, making him gasp in surprise.

Tsking, she deadpanned, "Thought about it. Decided perhaps I should make you beg after all."

This brought a smile to his face as he ducked his head and quite adorably scratched behind his ear with his good hand, one eyebrow raising in challenge.

He shook his head at her before he took a few measured steps closer, moving impossibly near, so near she could see the flecks of gold around his pupils, fanning through the aquamarine irises like a starburst. Her breath caught in her throat while her heart hammered in her chest, yet still she remained smirking up at him, attempting to appear unaffected.

Killian ducked his head one more time, rubbing the back of his neck before looking up at her through his dark lashes, the dimple showing in his cheek.

"Please?" he begged in a low voice, almost a whisper, holding out his hand in the small space between them, palm up in offering.

Emma placed the towel in his hand, trying not to tremble as she pressed through the material and felt his hand flex beneath hers. Even with the barrier, electricity passed between them.

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"I _do_ enjoy a challenge," he answered with a soft smile, still unbearably close as his eyes scanned over her face appreciatively.

Emma cleared her throat and shoved her hands into her back pockets as another diver walked by breaking their reverie, and Killian stepped back slightly.

"Well then," she continued in a low, sultry voice, when the diver had passed. "Can you hold your breath for a long time? Because I've been looking for someone who can go _really deep_."

Her eyes flicked shamelessly up and down his body with that, and when she returned them to his face, she noticed his pupils had darkened perceptibly, his tongue coming out to glide over his lower lip as his gaze singed her skin, lowering to where the hem of her shorts cut across her thighs.

"You've no idea, Swan," he answered, his voice laced with meaning. "I can not only hold it, I can go all the way down, as far as it takes to find the treasure." He almost, but not quite, booped her on the nose.

 _Arrogant S.O.B._ God, she was so turned on right now.

A slow smile spread across his face as he backed away from her, shaking his head slightly as he bit his lower lip. The crowd was cheering again and she knew he probably needed to go, but she found herself wondering what he was thinking as he walked backwards, keeping his eyes trained on her face as she tried not to flinch or look away.

Finally, he turned and walked straight over to the showers, and Emma's stomach swooped low, a small sigh escaping her lips as he cast one more look over his shoulder at her. She caught the side of his smirk and wondered what he was up to now.

Turning on the shower, he stood beneath it and let the stream pour over his head and Emma had never wanted to be water so desperately in her entire life, watching as it slid over every curve and plane of his body. Steam rose all around him, and she wondered if it was he who was the source of all that heat, since it seemed to follow him wherever he went. He leaned back and really got into it as the water drenched his hair, closing his eyes and putting his hand and stump against the wall to brace himself, the muscles in his back showing definition with every move.

 _Was he flexing his butt muscles?_ He had a perfect ass, taut and round, the kind Emma could really sink her teeth into, and she could swear he was purposely twitching it at her - the divots in the sides becoming more pronounced with each movement.

Which is why she dropped another towel, this time for a different diver.

"Sorry," she answered lamely, picking it up and handing it to him with an apologetic smile as she swallowed thickly, glad the drool didn't escape from her mouth.

She may not be able to help Jones earn a medal, but she was certainly willing to help him 'go all the way.' With gusto.


	3. Chapter 3

Emma kept on trading quips with Killian every time he came by her station for his towel, but as the evening wore on and the competition grew heated - mere points differentiating the top three diver's scores - she found herself offering praise and encouragement more and more, unwittingly.

"You sure know how to score," she told him after his final dive with a mischievous wink, a row of 9.5s and 10s lighting up the board. The other divers still had to complete their dives, but it was looking highly likely that Killian would medal after all.

Killian grinned at her, his expression now a bit more familiar, a bit more personal as he walked towards her, glancing behind him to look at the board.

"Don't I know it!" he chuffed with a cocky shrug of his shoulders.

She handed him a towel and he covered his head with it, wiping the water from his eyes and rubbing it over his hair. It gave Emma the perfect opportunity to watch his abs flex, the muscles stretching his skin tight over his hipbones and she bit her lip. How hadn't she noticed _those_ before? They would make such perfect handles.

When he was done drying himself, he draped the towel around his neck and moved closer, his eyes full of something bordering on affectionate. _How did his hair manage to look completely disheveled and artfully styled at the same time?_ Emma mused.

"You've been asking all the questions today, now I have one for you." His eyes darted towards her lips, and she found herself licking them in response.

"What's that?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest as nerves took hold.

He stepped into her space again, locking those intense eyes on her and she felt exposed under the weight of his gaze, until he ducked his head momentarily, as if to seek courage.

When he looked up again, there was a gentle, probing look in his eyes, and a whole lot of heat, too.

"Just who are you, Swan?" he asked in a low voice.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she snapped back on instinct.

"Perhaps I would." He stood unmoving, and Emma realized she wasn't going to get out of this, not if she wanted to move things forward with him, and surprisingly she found that she did. Maybe it was being at the Olympics and the thought that she'd probably never see him again, or maybe it was because he was so incredibly attractive and talented she just couldn't resist, or just maybe it was the way he tilted his head at her and made her feel...safe, but somehow Killian Jones seemed like a risk she was willing to take.

Emma sighed, then tucked her hands in her back pockets again and shrugged her shoulders.

"Just your typical American girl. I chase skips for a living. No family, no ties to much of anything except my ridiculous friend who convinced me to come down here with her." The words tumbled out in a rush - like ripping off a bandaid - and she smiled a bit self-deprecatingly at him.

Killian looked surprised, but pleased, his lips spreading into a smile. Hesitantly, he reached out and took her hand, drawing it up to his mouth and placing a firm but gentle kiss atop it. When he let go, Emma's hand tingled all over, partly from the simple pleasure of his touch, and partly from the tickle of his scruff that she desperately wanted to reach out and rake her fingertips through.

"Perhaps we should get to know one another better," he offered with a cocked brow, the tension between them shooting through the roof as he reached out and took a lock of her hair between his fingers, getting a feel for it as he rubbed it between his thumb and fingers. She knew what he was saying, even if he wasn't saying it.

"Perhaps we should," Emma answered, biting her lower lip as she imagined all the ways she'd like to get _intimately_ acquainted with him - like the hollow of his neck, for example, she'd like to map it with her tongue, she thought idly as she watched his adam's apple bob up and down.

"Well, then," he breathed out, and she could tell he was about to make his play for her when the crowd erupted in a loud cheer, and Killian's coach called out to him from a few yards away. The petite blonde - she had read that her first name was Tinkerbell, after the fairy, and Emma had to admit in this case, the name was actually pretty fitting - was followed by the media and she came straight towards Killian with a wide grin, flinging herself into his arms with words of congratulations and praise. Gold. He'd won the gold.

"Jones! Jones!" the interviewers all called out as he was pushed into the throng of well wishers and away from her, casting one last longing look behind him as he went.

"Congratulations," Emma mouthed at him, a wan smile the best she could muster when she realized they may never have the opportunity to see one another again, and his eyes became shadowed with regret momentarily before he was pushed along, out of sight.

Still, she stayed to watch the medal ceremony, a bit disappointed that when Killian walked up to the podium he was wearing a jogging suit over his speedo, although he did leave the zipper low enough to show off some of that fabulous chest hair.

His smile was more radiant than all the stars in the sky when they put the medal over his head, and she watched in fascination as shades of emotion colored his face when they played his national anthem. It made her want to hug him, knowing what she did about his life up to this point. What a proud moment it must be for him, and how sad he must be to be unable to share it with his family.

Emma sighed to herself. What did she know about it? She had barely met the guy a few hours ago.

Still, she couldn't disguise even to herself the pangs of jealousy and the twist of sadness in her gut as she watched him hug his super-cute coach and then get swallowed up by a throng of fans and reporters, everyone wanting an autograph or a quote for their story.

Just then she got a text message from Ruby, letting her know that if she's wasn't going to be banging any hot divers tonight, she should come out with her and go dancing with some smokin' hot Brazilians. Emma scoffed to herself. Definitely _not_ in the mood. She typed off a quick reply and then went to find herself something to eat.

Afterwards, she ended up going for a long walk along the waterfront, but mysteriously she found herself back in front of the entrance to the diving pool, as if she'd left something behind. Sighing in frustration, she looked down at the bag she was carrying with her swimsuit and towel which she'd carried with her earlier to the beach. Perhaps a little night swimming was in order? She'd probably be fired if she got caught, but hey - what fun is life without a hint of danger?

Even though no one was around, Emma tip-toed through the changing room, stopping every time she thought she heard the faintest creak. It's with that heightened state of mind that she entered the pool area and stopped dead in her tracks, the hairs standing up on the back of her neck as she realized who was already there.

 _Well, if it wasn't the hottest damn thing to hit Rio since the invention of the sun._

He broke into a huge grin that lit up his whole face. "Swan! I was hoping it'd be you."

Emma swallowed thickly, momentarily at a loss for words as a rush of excitement ran through her.

Killian was treading water near the edge of the pool, the lights casting golden shadows over his face in the darkness. He was like every version of a wet dream, his hair slicked back and his magnificent collarbones framed by the water, sending a frisson of heat straight to the center of her groin. She was dressed in her red string bikini, and she felt his eyes move over her form unabashedly, her stomach muscles twitching under his scrutiny. She thrust her chest out proudly, gripping her towel hard in her hand.

"You're not supposed to be here."

"Neither are you." She couldn't argue with that.

"Shouldn't you be out...celebrating or something? With your diving buddies?" She waved her hand in the air, then placed it on her hip as she struck a pose.

His smile faltered then, but he swam over to the side of the pool, and she found herself walking straight towards him, two missiles on a contact course.

"What if I told you that everyone I want to celebrate with is right here?" His voice had lowered audibly, and there was something dark and devious in his expression that sent a shiver straight down her spine. There was the danger she somehow knew she'd find here.

A tiny part of Emma thought perhaps she should run and not look behind her, but she ignored it as she watched his lean, muscled body climb from the pool, amazed to see him do it so easily even though he was one-handed, and awe-struck at watching him do it so up close and personal. He was coming for her, and she welcomed him with every fibre of her being.

He stopped right in front of her, dripping water everywhere, the dimple showing in his cheek as he studied her face. She could feel her breathing go rapid as the heat from his body traveled the distance between them. _Oh, to touch that heat…_

Emma looked away, needing a break from the tension.

"So, then. How shall we celebrate?" She tucked her hair behind her ears nervously.

Killian did a thing with his tongue that should be illegal on a global level, poking it into his cheek as he tilted his head at her. Then he bent over and reached for his duffle bag, rifling through it before pulling out a flask and raising it in the air.

"Rum?"

Emma grinned. "Yo ho ho."

Her eyes followed every movement as he bit the cork with his teeth and pulled it out between his red lips, spitting it in the direction of his bag. She could imagine all sorts of scenarios where she'd like him to use his teeth like that on _her_ , and she felt hot all over, sweat pooling between her naked breasts.

He took a quick swallow and then handed the flask to her, stepping so close she could swear she could hear his heart beating.

"Congrats on your good form," she said, albeit a bit cheekily, before raising the flask to her lips and taking a drink.

Killian smirked smugly. "I _do_ believe in good form, what can I say?"

"Hmm," Emma hummed, letting the rum wash over her tongue and down her throat. Killian's eyes followed the path it took, searing their way down her throat, his pupils wide and dark.

"So, let's see it then, Jones." She nodded her head at him.

Killian raised his hand and stump in the air in mock affront. "Straight for the goods. I like it."

Emma looked down at his speedo, unable to help herself, then back to his face.

"I meant the medal."

"I know what you meant." He winked at her, completely incorrigible as he puffed out his chest like a proud peacock. _Idiot._

Emma rolled her eyes at him, but shook her head anyway, secretly loving every second she spent with this man.

Eventually, he came out of his jest long enough to reach for his bag, pulling out his gold medal. He held it out to her.

"Put it on." She left him no room for argument.

"So, you want to see the whole package, then?" He smirked at her, then took the thick ribbon and looped it over his head as instructed, completely at mercy to her whims.

"Well, now that we're alone…" Emma drew closer, shoving the flask of rum into his hand and then pulling him to her by the medal. Killian cocked a single eyebrow at her when he realized her intent, but still he waited, like a gentleman, as she stood up on her tip-toes and pressed her lips to his, desperate and hungry for his kiss, her free hand curling around the back of his neck.

There was a buzzing sound in her ears as the kiss went straight from 0 to 60 in a matter of seconds. The chemistry she felt building between them all day exploded as their bodies fused together from chest to hip, only a thin layer of water to separate all that slick, warm skin. Killian's arms wrapped around her, holding her close and she tried not to be embarrassed by the moan that escaped her throat, which wasn't hard since he was moaning too, their tongues tangling in a sensual dance.

Walking her backwards, he pressed her none-too gently up against the half-wall that the diving platforms were attached to, and Emma gasped as Killian hoisted her leg up and anchored it over his hip, his palm running down her thigh to grope at her ass. There was very little to disguise his arousal, the wetness from his speedo quickly saturating her bikini bottoms as he pressed up against her in exactly the right spot, making her head swim.

Emma didn't waste any time exploring all the areas that she'd fantasized about earlier - threading her fingers through his slick hair, running her nails through the scruff at his cheek, tonguing at the hollow of his neck and sliding her mouth across the ridge of his collarbone, picking up beads of water as she went.

Killian bent down to kiss her neck and she felt as though she might spontaneously combust from that act alone, his tongue doing things to her flesh that she'd never known were possible, and his teeth nipping at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. His chest hair was rubbing against the smooth skin of her breasts and her nipples drew up so tight it was almost painful.

Reclaiming her mouth with his own, she reveled in his kiss - so full of passion, so full of fire - it was everything she wanted and more. His stump managed to hold her in her position against the wall, while his hand delved inside what little material she had covering her body - fingers digging into the rounded flesh of her ass, then smoothing up her side to work their way under her breast, making her gasp as he found his way inside her triangle top.

As he groped at her soft mound, thumb swiping over her nipple and pinching gently, Emma decided it was fair play to work her small fingers beneath the waistband of his speedo. His hips jerked away from her when she found was she was looking for, so large it was already escaping out the top the material. She smoothed her palm down him and was surprised to feel a small, square shaped package tucked just behind his length.

Pulling it out for inspection, she lifted it up and realized it was a condom, which made her chuckle.

Killian pulled away and she shook her head at him. "Do you always put a condom inside your speedo?"

Killian grinned deviously, shrugging his shoulders. "Never hurts to come prepared."

He leaned down to kiss her again and when his hips rolled against hers she decided it was time to move things along before they ended up in an awkward position against the wall.

Killian seemed to be on the same page, as he pulled back suddenly and regarded her with his darkened eyes, looking completely wrecked and desperate.

"Ever make love on a diving platform, Swan? I hear it's an 'elevated experience.'" A grin and a swipe of his tongue over his lower lip punctuated his statement.

Emma snorted, before she quirked her eyebrow at him, her arms still wrapped tightly around his neck.

"I'm game if you are."

Killian's smile turned predatory and Emma felt a strong clench between her thighs. She was ready to take this thing higher, to see how far they could go.

Turns out Killian was just as good at holding his breath as he promised, and his hipbones really _did_ make excellent handles. When they were done, both panting furiously as they came down from the high, Killian combing his fingers through her tangled hair, he asked exactly the question she knew to expect from him, though it still made her smile.

"What say thee, judge? Final score?"

"Perfect 10."

* * *

This is the final part of this story! Hope you all enjoyed. Review? :)


End file.
